So etcetera etcetera I apologize for the absence, but my reading week just passed (which I spent working both a job and on assignments) and the week before that was a bit busy as well. So not only have I been absent from the blog but I've been pretty behind on all of the fashion weeks as a result. When I say behind I mean so far back I've lost the pack (just finished all of NY and about to start London). So tomorrow I'm going to sit in my school's computer lab and catch up because guess what? PARIS IS STARTING TOMORROW SAY WHUUUT. I'm going to do review posts eventually as well (also I couldn't decide which to do so I requested my Tumblr bbs to suggest some - so far we've got Prada, Missoni, D&G and Marc Jacobs) because I need to brush up on my writing skills (even though I have a 1200 word research essay due on Monday which I should be working on instead). Anywho this is what I wore today (the red skirt irritated me on the way to school so I took it off after only a bit of wear, unfortunately. Gotta remember skin on zipper contact isn't comfortable)

Moreover, what possessed me to make this face? I need to plan facial expressions pre-taking pictures of outfits.

I DO WHAT I WANT. No but actually, this expression needs to get off of my face.

Pale beige cardigan on backwards, H&M. Detailed beige tee and red skirt, vintage. Cream skirt, thrifted. Tights from eBay.

Also, remember the book Radical Fashion I was talking about? It's basically a compilation of essays on what the book describes as 'radical' designers, which is a sentiment I share. So far I've only managed to read the first three essays (I believe there are about five or six?) and the research that has been put into them is astounding. Although the two latter essays I read were concerning facts about the past and present of certain designer's work (for example, the second essay was about Jean Paul Gaultier and Azzedine Alaia's work in couture and the third regarded Yohji, Rei, Issey Miyake and to an extent Junya Watanabe, as they brought to Paris a sense of perfection to what the western considered a degradation of beauty; imperfect) which I already was aware of, the first essay didn't concern so much the designer as it did the role that the Futurist movement played for each designer, both consciously or without conscious influence at all.

The essay itself is entitled 'Looking Forward, Historical Futurism' and it's written in an articulate, quite fluent manner by Judith Clark. I'm not going to delve too deep into discussion of the essay itself because it'll basically lead to a summary from me and I'd rather you guys read it yourselves (don't tl;dr this you guys! It's intriguing I swears). Basically the Futurists were turning their back on timeless, elegant, goddess-like clothing that of course was a radical thing to do.

It's online, you can read it here. But I'm going to post some excerpts I found interesting nevertheless.

The tradition of the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the minds of the living. And, just when they appear to be engaged in the revolutionary transformation of themselves...in the creation of something that does not yet exist, precisely in such epochs of revolutionary crisis they timidly conjure up the spirits of the past to help them; they borrow their names, slogans and costumes so as to stage the new world-historical scene in this venerable disguise and borrowed language... In the same the beginner who has learned a new language always retranslates it into his mother tongue: he can only be said to have appropriated the spirit of the new language and to express himself in it freely when he can manipulate it without reference to the old, and when he forgets his original language while using the new one.

Futurist clothing had to be aggressive and dynamic (through the use of triangles, spirals, cones, that 'inspire love of danger, speed, hatred of peace and immobility'). It has to be asymmetrical as opposed to classically harmonious (he specifies examples—perhaps a jacket with one sleeve longer than the other or one rounded lapel and the other square.) It had to be agile, simple (easy to put on and remove) and hygienic (for war marches). It had to be joyful and hence its colours had to be vivid (here Balla uses the emphasis typical of Futurist manifestos to describe colour 'Reeeeeeeeeeeds, Viiiiooooooleeeets, greeeeeeens') and fluorescent (an early example of its application to textiles used for everyday dress). It had, vitally, to be reactive, achievable, with modificanti (fabric badges), applied to an outfit both to reflect the wearer's mood and to enhance its impact, using 'war-hungry, decisive' adjectives never before applied to dress. Finally, it had to be disposable, not durable, to ensure fast renewal.

(ironically Balla and I seem to have the same method of emphasis ^^)

Futurists enjoying daring, novelty, originality, even absurdity in its own right, highlighting the obviously associated behavioural dimension of dress. For Futurists both wearer and dress were active.

But I think what mainly piqued my interest in Futurism integrated with fashion is how Futurists wanted to translate paintings which completely abstracted the human form into clothing. For an example, take Marcel Duchamp's Nude Descending A Staircase No. 2. I'm not talking prints, structure or color palette; I'm talking the complete translation of bodily form and posture. That is definitely what I would call radical.

Finally, there were pictures in the latter of the book of collections, advertisements, exhibitions, artwork, you name it, by the designers. I'll start with Gaultier and Alaia, the first of the two essays with focus on designers, then end it with my favourites; Kawakubo, Miyake, Yamamoto and Watanabe. :3 (I'll post the Margiela/Chalayan/McQueen/Westwood ones when I get to the essays)

Azzedine Alaia:

left: A/W 2000-01 right: A/W 1979

Jean Paul Gaultier:

both from Haute Couture S/S 2000

Comme des Garcons:



Issey Miyake:

A-POC 1999 (from Issey Miyake Making Things, ACE Gallery, New York, Nov 1999) (I would throw fluffy animals from cliffs to go back and see this, ngl)

l: A-POC Knit 2000 r: Jeux de Tissu performance by Yayoi Kusuma on A-POC King and Queen 2000

A-POC 2001

Junya Watanabe:

Yohji Yamamoto:

l: A/W 1986-87 r: A/W 1995-96

l: S/S 1997 r: S/S 1998

l: A/W 1995-96 r: S/S 1999

Also, slightly unimportant since the previous post is obviously taking over everything, but this is what I wore today. 

(lol not showing my eyes: see last post)

Faux fur hat, beige lace dress, purple floral tights, grey knee highs all from H&M. Floral jumpsuit, Topshop. Floral cardigan, forest green skirt are vintage. White lace shirt, Urban Outfitters sale rack I think? Or maybe it's vintage. I forget.

Lee Alexander McQueen.

My head and heart and body hurts so much right now. 

A man who’s work has had such a profound effect on me is just gone? I still can’t come to terms with this.

To apply the term "exceptional" to his work is demeaning and arbitrary. His work surpassed the exceptional, went beyond the contemporary vision. He formulated bodies of work (through his multiple collections) pieces that were heard of not only tangibly but conceptually. Of course an idea is one thing, but to execute it in an objective space and then excel above the concept is a rarity in the societal era of the tedious and indolent. His execution, his designs, his artistic demeanor, his heart and soul were the epitome of brilliance, not only within fashion but within modern art. He was fearless. He challenged himself each season and when doubts as if he could surpass his previous collection(s) were raised by viewers and critics alike he shot those uncertainties in the face with a sawed off shot gun. There was no climax of McQueen's career for each new collection was it's own climax. He was this climatic entity that never ceased to amaze. 

His work was one of the reasons I'm this passionate about clothes today. I feel like I lost a teacher, a friend who I could rely on to keep me inspired with every collection, and I would still maintain this inspiration for months and months until he released his next brilliant collection of clothing. The fact that I no longer have this is like someone ripped a piece from this passion and fed it to dogs.

I'm not reading this back because I'm incapable at the moment.

I'm just going to return to going through his archives and crying until my eyes are dry.

*This post has no relevant point or thesis to it. It's just a bunch of random closely related shit placed together.

So firstly let me acknowledge what I wore today. I left my camera back where I originally live and so I'm just resorting to Photobooth. I had a very limited choice of what to wear since all of my stuff was here, where I am now, but yeah, TEXTURES. Mad props to you.

Everything is vintage except for the striped skirt which is from H&M.

I got my nails manicured for the first time in ever at my mom's friend's nail salon and she was a bit thrown off when I asked her to omit two of them from being painted blue and to be done in white instead. I don't know why I have a sly grin on my face in the picture though, especially when all the notes in sharpie pen on my left hand are a series of errands I have to run. That involve spending money. AKA I should look genuinely upset in this picture.

This is a jacket I bought a couple of weeks ago from the Goodwill, when I saw it I immediately ran to a mirror and put it on my back and did the Blue Steel look which seemed to be an unconscious reaction. I suppose when you put on an article of clothing covered with MULTIPLE PICASSO PAINTINGS one inevitably tends to do this. In short it's a bad ass jacket and it's the best 5 bucks I've spent in a while.

This is from that book 'Radical Fashion' I was talking about previously (which I still have to finish, I just read three other books though so I'm leaving this one for the very end). It's only one of my favourite collections of EVER - Hussein Chalayan's "After Words" collection from the Autumn/Winter 2000 season. It's amazing in so so so many ways. I always admired Rei for her association with the design aspect of Comme des Garcons and how she perpetually played an integral role in coming up with the concept and execution of the architectural part of the house (i.e shop interiors, furniture, etc.) So when I first saw this collection and saw how Hussein literally integrated the two, essentially making the design his collection and his collection the design, I couldn't help but obsess over it. It also plays out like an installation (nearly all of his collections do), evoking a conceptual artistry as much as it does a series of clothing. 

Here is the video also, which I do recommend. It was definitely intended to be viewed in motion rather than in stills, and it leaves much more of an impact than the images do.

I'll end this post with an excerpt of something I wrote for a creative response assignment for my literary studies class. It has to do with Baudelaire's flaneur - basically someone with a child-like demeanor and sense of astonishment as they walk through a social place buzzing with life. In this paragraph this flaneur is watching individuals, couples, groups, deep in conversation and laughter as he walks by windows during a stroll through city streets.

Continuously in the bins they go, in between blood clots and stolen names, and I forget of this ridden debate as I glare through the shimmer of invisibility at spoken words my eyes don’t hear. But how glorious these conversations seem! A gap between each seat and life is translated through a different set of lens, and yet they all find joy in conjunctions tied together through seams. Different eateries I make my way past, with the silver of each spoon more dull than another, a chair less comforting than the next. But heads still bob back with gaping mouths escaping the echoes of satire still fresh on their breaths. I feel as though I can touch their hearts as they rise and pace, and the simultaneous lives shared through laughter makes my chest peak and suddenly I am unleashing waves in giggles to nothing, in particular, in the grey of the streets.

JUST A QUICK OUTFIT POST. Can't talk anymore. Refuse to. Must stop. (I was missing autumn today).






ALSO: I rented this book (among others) from my school's library and after reading the foreword and skimming through pictures I will definitely be talking about it to a further extent in the mere future. Maybe even tonight.

Beige winter jacket, H&M. Grey over-sized cardigan and forest green skirt, vintage. Underneath brown cardigan and grey zipper skirt, H&M. Shoes, vintage.

I wore this on Thursday for a karaoke outing where hecklers screamed 'eat something!' because of my bones (drunk people are so witty) and the karaoke DJ referred to me as Skulls all night. Also, these pants are from the H&M sale bin, which contained surprisingly stunning pieces. For example, there were high waisted teal blue cotton trousers; if they had my size I would have been all up on that like cheese on rice. They also had expensive black sequin harem pants which I couldn't afford. I guess I should have taken a better picture of these black pants since they sort of swim with your legs due to the light weight of the fabric. I was cold since it was so low under zero degrees celsius but hey, suffering for fashion is like burning your tongue a little whilst drinking hot chocolate. It's the chocolate-y burn that matters (potential that's what she said?). Also, a close-up of my make-up since there is rarely any colour on my face ever.

This is from Friday night when I tried doing a tame version of Luella's Spring 2010 make-up. I did this with the same lipstick I used in the previous photographs. I don't know if it's lipstick in general or just the brand I was using but it ended up melting a bit and hence fading and at one point ended up all over my fingers. I'll be doing it again though nonetheless.

I've been away for so long because I've been busy with school and with this blog I always feel like I need to write long posts like a journal article or something. With assignments piling up as the semester progresses, I find that I have little to no time or head space for anything legitimate or extensive. Hence Tumblr (I actually mention it in every blog post I'M SORRY). But here are some quick dash notes about stuff. I have to wake up in five hours for a lecture so I'll be quick.

- Pre-fall report: PROENZA SCHOULER OMG UNF. Lanvin was also great, both aesthetically and the mode of presenting the clothes, it was sort of like an exhibition. I have to also mention Thakoon scarf-like skirts, I have a soft spot for them. And the latter of the Chanel pre-fall collection. And more I can't think of right now. I also need to get caught up on the men's collections. Falling behind here...
- Radiohead for Haiti benefit concert tonight, if you went and are reading this right now, KILL YOURSELF. Then come back to life so I can murder you out of spite and envy. Whatever, I'm still $450 richer UNLIKE MOST OF YOU WEST COAST BITCHES.
- JH Engstrom may be one of my new photographers, google his book Haunts. Eerie stuff with gorgeous use of lighting.
- I'm going to see MF DOOM and Mos Def in a few days with a friend. Will I be the only tiny white girl there? Most likely. Check back to see if I come out alive. Or if I've been involved in a shoot out.
- The FRUiTS magazine exhibition wasn't really an exhibition rather than a restaurant with enlarged street style photos from the mag put up above each table. Although I did get to see them, I was a bit upset I couldn't take pictures without being glanced at by the hawks that took form as waitresses ("take a seat wherever you like" x12). I was planning to post them here. Bummer.
- I saw Youth in Revolt and Precious yesterday and both were amazing but for independent respective reasons. Also Mo'Nique's acting is ace in the latter. Michael Cera making overtly sexual comments and wearing tight white trousers is also ace.

That's all for now, I need to sleep, goodnight goodnight goodnight.

Skull bodysuit originally a 4 year old's halloween costume. Light black pants, H&M.

I never know how to begin with these things linguistically, which comes as quite of a surprise seeing as I ramble consistently, but yet when I write (or type for that matter) I always end up with this abstract incoherency that is totally irrelevant to said topic. I guess I could start by acknowledging that I started school again this Monday. I'm done every week as of 1130am on Thursday (thasrightnuccas) and I have it, I wouldn't say easy, but definitely much more enjoyable than last semester. I just love that I get to read books and essays of authors that not only can I tolerate but am fond of as well. For example, I just finished a book by Anne Carson entitled The Autobiography of Red and am starting on a short story by Juni'chiro Tanizaki about beauty and aesthetics in Japanese culture (a culture that evokes in my opinion an epitomized sense of allure and perfection). Aside from this, my studio classes include realizing colour through paint and sculpture, an introduction to experimental printmaking, and exploring narrative and sequence through photography. 

So there is no doubt that consuming such a wide variety of art and literature has influenced my "style" in a certain way. I use these scare quotes because I don't think I have determined my literal style yet, and thus I don't believe label my own just yet. All I can say is that the monochromatic prevalence (and I mean prevalence) in my daily wear has reduced substantially. Not to say I've lost all appreciation for it, but as I kept being fed all of these things, it sort of shone a light on this limited notion I had of what fashion is. I realized that black and white clothing can only do so much. It's like if Picasso's Blue period expanded throughout his entire life; of course the works would still be brilliant, but he realized that art is this entire spectrum that needs to be discovered. Picasso constantly translated himself. In terms of fashion, his artistic periods could be depicted as styles or eras, as dissimilar as they may be from one another. They are little pieces that form this finished puzzle that we know generally as fashion today. Some people will be more fond of say the monochromatic combinations of Rick Owens' work, other of the elitist royalty that Valentino gowns exude, some (myself included) of the clothing of Rei Kawakubo which typically are deconstructed and placed back together to create breathtaking compositions, others of the androgynous appeal of Ann Demeulemeester's collections, etc - and that's okay. It's just making it past a self-inflicted limitation in succession is all. Once you come to realize the whole is greater than the sum of its parts, then this naiveté is diminished and you tend to see the bigger picture.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that when I didn't acknowledge variety I was stuck in this little bubble of repetition - wearing the same colour schemes, watching similar films, reading the same types of books, etc. I don't know if it was art school that opened my eyes exactly, but straying away from routine took an extremely positive toll. Although I can safely say Japanese fashion is my favourite out of everything else, I'm afraid that if it wasn't for realizing how multifarious not only fashion really is, but art and literature also, I would still be in my monochromatic bubble on this day.

Don't ostracize me if none of that translated very well - I didn't really write it with an envisioned central point or thesis. Just something I've been thinking about in an abstract set of thoughts that I needed to write down somewhere.

I'm not going to go into details about anything else any further, just that I wore this outfit yesterday with a fur coat on top and that these below are some of my favourite photos from editorials, and that clicking on the photos will send you to my Tumblr from whence they came. By the way I'm addicted to that site and you can blame it for my absence here like I've stated before. 

PS. I don't like buttoning blouses unless they're in the wrong button holes. Asymmetry is my new best friend.

Everything I have on is vintage except for the tights which are white translucent ones over top of thick black ones.